


Indelible

by misanthropiclycanthrope



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Everybody Lives, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, M/M, Post-Kingsman: The Golden Circle, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 11:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12934422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misanthropiclycanthrope/pseuds/misanthropiclycanthrope
Summary: Harry and Roxy keep vigil at Merlin's hospital bedside. Revelations follow.





	Indelible

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: Roxy: "I didn't know Merlin had tattoos?!" Harry: "I did." Roxy: "What?"
> 
> I may have accidentally turned what I'm sure was intended as a lighthearted prompt into a mess of feelings...

Roxy had become a familiar fixture in Merlin’s room, insisting that since they were both stuck there while they recovered from their injuries, the least she could do was keep him company.

Of course, Merlin was yet to wake from his coma, but that didn’t deter her in the least, and Harry was so very grateful that she was there whenever he couldn’t be.

And so he wasn’t at all surprised to find her sat in her wheelchair beside the window on that particular morning, chatting away about whatever came to mind. That it was an entirely one-sided conversation didn’t matter; she had diligently kept Merlin informed of all they were doing to rebuild Kingsman, outlined their new links with Statesman, given a full report on Eggsy and Tilde’s wedding, and kept him abreast of all the gossip, both work related and otherwise. Sometimes, she played him music.

Roxy paused when Harry slipped into the room to greet him cheerfully, unsurprised by his appearance even though he was, technically, several minutes early.

“Good morning, Roxy.” Harry felt a swell of happiness whenever he saw her, so pleased she had survived Poppy’s horrific attack. He’d been devastated to hear what had happened, and as relieved as Eggsy when they’d later found Roxy alive and with only relatively minor injuries. “How are you today?”

“I’m good, thanks, Harry. They say I can have the cast off tomorrow.”

“That’ll be a relief, I’m sure.”

Harry turned his attention to the man in the bed, knowing Roxy would forgive him his ill manners. He clasped Merlin’s shoulder in greeting as had become his ritual, born of a need to confirm that Merlin was truly there, truly alive. If Harry was amazed by Roxy’s survival, he considered it nothing short of a miracle that Merlin hadn’t perished in that explosion. He hadn’t come out of it unscathed by any means, but he was alive, and for that Harry would be forever grateful. The Kingsman suit Merlin had donned so proudly, while not blast proof in the same way it was bulletproof, had provided him some measure of protection.

Poppy’s mine may have taken his legs, but it hadn’t taken his life. Just like Kingsman itself, he was broken but not defeated and, given time, both would recover.

Unfortunately, Harry had never been the most patient of men.

“Good morning, Merlin.” Harry didn’t expect a response, but, like Roxy, always included Merlin in the conversation. The doctors had said there was a chance he could hear them on some subconscious level, that the sound of their voices might be of some comfort. He hoped they were correct.

“Any change?” He addressed Roxy once more. He would have been informed of any significant changes as a matter of course, but he always asked Roxy in case she had noticed anything, however minor.

As usual, however, she shook her head, an apology in her eyes although it was hardly her fault. “Sorry, Harry. Have faith though, the doctors are positive, and I’m sure it won't be long.”

“Oh, I have every faith. He’s far too stubborn a bastard to let something like this beat him.”

Roxy chuckled softly. “You know he might be able to hear you.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Harry pulled the visitor’s chair to his customary spot beside the bed and sat down. There had been occasions when he’d remained there so long the medical staff had resorted to all but kicking him out, but they mostly let him be. Sometimes he talked, sometimes he just watched the steady rise and fall of Merlin’s chest.

“I didn’t know Merlin had a tattoo.”

It took Harry a moment to catch Roxy’s train of thought, following her gaze to Merlin’s arm. The lowermost curves and swirls of dark ink must have been peeking out beneath the sleeve of Merlin’s hospital gown.

“Oh yes, he has several.”

Roxy looked at Harry in surprise. Perhaps she hadn’t thought Merlin the type.

“He calls them the product of a misspent youth, but he’s actually rather proud of them.”

“And you’ve seen them?”

“Of course.” Harry considered that maybe he’d misunderstood the cause of Roxy’s shock. She seemed more startled by Harry’s knowledge on the subject. “That one’s his Army regiment’s insignia,” he informed her with a nod toward Merlin’s upper arm and the design that had caught her eye. “But my favourite is the one beside his right shoulder blade, possibly because it’s the one I'm responsible for choosing.”

“He got a tattoo for you?”

“Yes, a painted lady.”

She blinked, nonplussed. “A what?”

“It’s a butterfly.”

Roxy grinned in delight. “And he agreed to that?”

“Not at all. He lost a bet.”

Now she was laughing. “I’ll bet he loved that!”

“He didn’t speak to me for a week when he realised what I’d picked. But he did come around eventually.”

Harry smiled at the memory as it surfaced vividly in his mind’s eye; Merlin lying naked beneath him, trembling as Harry traced the outline of the butterfly’s wings with his fingers, with his tongue. He hadn’t groused about it so much after that, only making the odd token grumble. It was a part of Harry he carried with him, a connection inked indelibly into his skin.

“He was devastated, you know.” Roxy had grown sombre again, and Harry waited for her to elaborate. “When we thought you were dead. He didn’t show it of course, but there were times I could see the pain in his eyes. Like when he told Eggsy how proud you’d be of him.”

Harry swallowed past the lump forming in his throat. For more than a year, Merlin had believed him dead, had hidden his grief, mourning in private while continuing to work with undiminished diligence, guiding young Eggsy in Harry’s place.

“I hate that I put him through that.”

“No, Harry, it wasn’t your fault. He didn’t blame you. He blamed _himself_ , but never you.”

Harry sighed in fond despair. That sounded precisely like Merlin, taking responsibility for every little thing, however out of his control it may be.

“It was Valentine’s fault,” Roxy continued, taking it upon herself to correct the two old fools. “Just as this was Poppy’s.”

“He stood on a mine for me.” Harry wasn’t quite ready to relinquish all the blame. Not yet. “He sacrificed himself so that Eggsy and I could complete the mission. He…” Harry’s voice faltered, failed, and he squeezed his eye shut against the sudden heat of tears. Roxy stayed silent, giving him time to compose himself. “We both knew that, in this job, there was always a chance that, one day, one or the other of us might not return from a mission. I don’t think either of us realised just how much it would hurt when it actually happened.”

Unlike Merlin, Harry had only grieved a short while. After the adrenaline of the fight had worn off, and events truly sunk in, he had been left hollow, bereft, his heart caught in a vice and chest tight. But he hadn’t suffered his loss for long. His joy when Merlin had been discovered alive had been just as fierce, albeit in a different way, and he never wanted to experience that agony ever again.

He knew Merlin would agree with him on that.

Harry remembered the delight in Merlin’s eyes when he had finally regained his memory, when they were at last reunited, and could only imagine what it must have been like to carry the weight of that pain for so long.

Merlin was far stronger a man than he.

Harry reached out, took Merlin’s hand, held it secure in both of his. They had always been strongest together.

“How long have you been in love?”

Stunned, Harry looked up, saw the gentle smile on Roxy’s face. But of course she’d worked it out. Shrewd, clever Roxy. She hadn’t won the position of Lancelot for naught.

“More than thirty years.” Harry’s thumb stroked reflexively against Merlin’s wrist, over the pulse that continued to thrum beneath his skin. “It took us a while to get our acts together. He didn’t think anyone could possibly love a rough-around-the-edges, penniless runaway, while I couldn’t believe someone so brilliant would ever want to waste their time with me. And that’s not to mention the prejudice we faced back then.”

“But you worked it out.”

“We did.”

“I’m glad. It’s good that you have each other, that you always have.”

“I consider myself incredibly lucky.”

And he was, fortunate beyond measure. Now all he needed was for Merlin to wake up, and he prayed to whatever deity might be listening that it would happen soon.

“Perhaps you should get a tattoo for him,” Roxy suggested with just a hint of mischief. “When he wakes up. To celebrate how you’re both still alive.”

Harry glared as best as one could glare with only the one eye. He was certain it was still passably effective even when employed in jest. “I’ll thank you not to put ideas in his head.”

It was, in fact, something Merlin had jokingly suggested in the past, an idea Harry had vehemently rejected. But now he thought about it, recognised it as a symbol of his enduring affection, it didn't really seem all that awful. Roxy didn’t need to know that, though.

She was grinning, and Harry knew she had every intention of mentioning it as soon as the opportunity arose. He sighed, resigned to the pestering he was certain to suffer. God forbid Eggsy should ever hear of it.

But such a fate didn’t seem so terrible if it meant he was to be surrounded by those he loved most.

“I should be getting back.” Roxy began to wheel herself toward the door. “Else the nurses will send out a search party.”

Harry saw it for the excuse it was, Roxy kindly granting him privacy, some time alone with Merlin. “Thank you, Roxy.”

He was thanking her for more than just that, for everything she had done, and she acknowledged his gratitude with a nod and a smile as she rolled out of the room.

Alone, Harry let his gaze linger on the familiar features, so still now, but peaceful. He laced his fingers with Merlin’s, fervently hoping that one day soon he would feel an answering squeeze.

His free hand he placed on Merlin’s chest, over his heart and the words he knew looped elegantly above— _Nemo me impune lacessit_ —and the smaller script below that followed the curve of his ribs: _cha dean duine dona ach a dhìchioll_.

The former would always apply, as long as Harry drew breath, and the latter, well.

“You have always done your very best, my dear Hamish, and I for one consider myself all the richer for it.”

Harry brought Merlin’s hand to his lips, pressed a kiss to the dry but warm skin, and settled himself more comfortably in the plastic chair, ready to maintain his vigil for as long as was necessary.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Nemo me impune lacessit_ (No one injures me with impunity) is Scotland's motto.
> 
>  _Cha dean duine dona ach a dhìchioll_ is a Scottish Gaelic proverb: 'A poor fellow can do but his best.' I may have some Scottish blood in me, but my Gaelic is far from perfect! My apologies for any errors.


End file.
